DISPATCHED FROM THE intersection of yesterday and forever

A
Thanksgiving Note to My Uncle Pat

It's one of those public radio questions calculated
to make you feel like a clod — as if you were reading literature
for inspiration instead of homework.

But now that I have out my pens and bristol board for a cartooning class,
I realize that there was a book that changed my life.

In sixth grade — 1960 — I won an Honorable Mention in a poster
contest sponsored by AAA and the St. Louis Christmas Carol Association. I had fun painting my goony carolers but labored endlessly over
painting the required block letters.

I must have communicated the lettering agony to my Uncle Pat. Next thing
I knew, he dropped off a book for me. Written on the first page
in india ink was a note congratulating me on my achievement. My
uncle (also my godfather and father to 6 kids of his own) worked
as a draftsman. The small paperback was "The Speedball Book of
Lettering."

The idea with Speedball is that you buy their pen
nibs, then use the book to guide you in the proper shape of letters.
I didn't really put two and two together about the nibs.
I had a pencil. I started copying letters.

The book went everywhere with me. I analyzed and reproduced curves and
slants. I slowly began to see what made letters belong to one style
versus another. Somewhere along the line Uncle Pat also gave me
an Ames Lettering Guide, which quickly puts pencil rules on a page
for precise line spacing.

Lettering became my special skill.

I was on a track in high school where I wasn't allowed to take
art classes, but I still drew letters. My dad had me doing covers
for the church sports banquet programs. And I drew giant
1960s-style balloon letters for high school drama productions.

My grandfather
Ewald asked me to do a "For Rent" sign. As I sat at the kitchen
table slowly outlining the letters and filling them in, he watched
with both fascination and impatience, giving me pointers
about how I might increase my efficiency.

In college I made brochures
and posters for the Spanish Department. My willingness to letter
anything was a source of great popularity — I was fast and fun (with
a magic marker, that is).

I carried the book around with me till my job at Green Valley School — 11
years or so. By that time it was stuffed with my "portfolio" of
program covers and brochures, all held together with a rubber band.

Then it was gone. I searched high and low, desperate to find it. It
was like losing my best friend. Gone. Just gone.

But the letter-mania stuck with me. Back in those pre-Letraset, pre-computer
days, everyone loved a sign painter. Or someone to letter their
favorite poem. Around 1978 I actually took a calligraphy course
and figured out the Speedball nibs. "Drawing" letters was frowned
upon in the calligraphic world of pens and brushes, but it was
still my first love.

My drawing of letters on roller skates caught the attention of
Pat Drum in 1980. She got me to do brochures for
her growing aerobic dance business — and then figured that, if I could
do letters, I could do any kind of graphics. That started a 10-year
exploration of more skills and was the beginning of a beautiful
friendship.

Gosh. A book. A book that guided me on the path of art, craft, usefulness,
popularity, pure enjoyment and friendship.

And here I am today with my old pens spread out in front of me once again,
having a ball. My original Ames Lettering Guide, with the $1 price
sticker on its plastic sleeve, still works like a charm. I'm a
little out of practice doing hand-lettering, but it's flooding my heart
with memories of my old "Speedball Book of Lettering" days.

And so I'm also thinking of my Uncle Pat and his inspired act of kindness
46 years ago. A hot cup of coffee toast to him and to all my family
this Thanksgiving morning.